


Tales In The Tardis

by YourLoyalBlogger



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Adventure, Angst, Drama, Humor, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-26
Updated: 2015-02-26
Packaged: 2018-03-15 08:23:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3440255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YourLoyalBlogger/pseuds/YourLoyalBlogger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of drabbles surrounding happenings and adventures in the Tardis. First time writing in the whoniverse! Prompts welcome and encouraged. Set during Eleven's tenure.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Christmas

**Author's Note:**

> First attempt at writing in the Doctor Who universe! Starting with drabbles. Prompts welcome and encouraged!

                                                                            

* * *

Alone.

It had to be the saddest word in the english language. And it didn't get much better in other languages either. The Bright Worlds of the Casta-Lupion System used the word Shheorå (loosely translated of course), which meant a crying heart. Loneliness often involved a longing for something more. For a friend, for family, for a lover or for something else. Something that couldn't be defined. You didn't feel more alone, then when you were the last of your kind and it was kind of your fault. He supposed that was why he still took on companions, when his mind told him it was foolish and dangerous. And sometimes one would come along and he would think,  _this is the one, this one will last._ Which was a lie of course. Because they never stayed. They would become disillusioned, scared or bored. Sometimes they just thought it was the right time to go. They probably all thought,  _oh I'll see that daft old man again._  But they wouldn't. And then there were those who never chose to leave.

Those that died, those that were trapped forever. And those that forgot he ever existed.

How he longed for a familiar face, or another of his people. A timelord or timelady popping by for a visit, having miraculously survived the Time War and the Moment. Someone friendly, of the good sort. But he'd even be happy to see the Master again. If it meant not being the only one. The lonely god, the dark angel. He Who Walks Among The Stars. All fantastic titles, but they weren't deserved. He wanted to be one of a million, a billion, a trillion more. Not one in the entire cosmos. The few chances he had he'd lost. Proving once again, the universe doesn't care.

He'd lost Jenny to the cruelties of war, he'd lost Donna, though strictly she hadn't been a timelady. But she would have held her own against any of them. And then there was River. Lost the first day he met her. He'd thought that would sour al future meetings but he was wrong. Here was someone he really thought he'd have a chance at being with forever. She was his match. And even though she was but an echo, much like Jenny, she would have excelled on Gallifrey. Top of her class and in trouble all the time. Just like himself. She would have fitted right in with his year group.

River Song. The Archeologist.

* * *

The rooms of the Tardis were so empty now. No laughing gingers and good natured nurses filled it's halls. No accidentally walking in and creating awkward situations. No midnight snacks with Amy in her nightie or long talks with Rory over some tea. Amy, the best friend and Rory, the brother. Gone forever and ever. His first proper, actually related too, family in too long. And he had them for over two hundred years! And he married their daughter!...In an alternate universe that technically never happened. River never took that as a good excuse.  _We all remember it so therefore it happened dear._

The fact that Christmas was so close made it worse. So many worlds had holidays like Christmas. A time for family, celebrating and giving. On Starlight they gave out gifts on the stroke of midnight on the longest day of the year. Lanterns would decorate every street and building and family would sit in front of the fire and open presents. The next day they would visit their external families for scrumptious feasts. Other worlds colonised by humans had built upon existing traditions.

Here, in Victorian London, things were still quite tame. And that was good, because if you were going to be alone, you didn't want something to remind you that you were. Better to be above it all, high up in a cloud, that down in the snow, watching families buy turkeys or duck, children with their noses frozen to the window whilst looking at toy displays. No carols reached his ears up in his cloud.

_Bah Humbug indeed._

Hardening his hearts against the universe was the only solution he had left. Too old now to have them broken again, too cynical to care. Madame Vastra could claim all she liked that it wouldn't last, he knew himself better than her. He could outlast the world, because he'd done it before. Even if her opinions were touching, they were just that, opinions. Just words. Words, words, words. Words could be powerful things, conquer mountains or topple kings. But they were also weak and flimsy things. They could be easily scrunched up into a ball and thrown aside into a bin.

He held onto her words with only a sliver of hope and get them safely by hs hearts, basking in the little amount of light and warmth they could give. But he held fast to his promise, choosing to stay in a dark and cold Tardis instead of a warm, manor house. He didn't choose to be alone however, no matter where he was or who he was with, that feeling would never leave him.

Because when you are the only one in the world, that's as alone as you can get.


	2. Little Moments

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: To all those no longer with us.

The little things? The little moments? They aren't little. They are so, so huge. Eclipsing everything. What could be a small, unimportant moment for someone can be monumental for someone else. Big events, yeah they can change things in a big way. But sometimes it's the littlest things that make the biggest changes, the biggest impacts on our lives.

A first kiss, or a last one. Buying something with your own money for the first time. Seeing the ocean. First times and last times. A fleeting encounter with a person that changed the way you saw everything. Or maybe you changed something in them.

When you live long enough, it's not the big things you miss, it's the little things. Because the big things can come again, but the little things were so important that their loss can never be replaced. A spur of the moment dance in a living room, the baking of a cake and making such a mess of it. Curling up with someone you care about to watch a movie.

It's the little things I often miss most about the people I've known. Whether it's the laugh of a red headed companion, the quiet conversations beneath the console from another, spoilers and actually having them, every little courageous moment that made them proud. Every adventure that wasn't.

Funny how the things you thought you weren't cut out for or wouldn't enjoy are the things you miss the most. Because in the end, when they're gone, it's the little things you miss most, not the big ones. Even if they almost destroyed or saved the universe, running your fingers through their hair might be the desired thing in yours.

Enjoy your little moments, relish in their enormity. Don't make my mistakes. Be human, be extraordinary in an extra ordinary way and don't let the complicatedness of existence stop you from the simple things in life that are just, so, delightful.


	3. Of Kittens and Tardises Part 1

It had followed him from the park. A stray no doubt and very inquisitive. He ignored it at first. Animal had followed him before, but they usually became bored and abandoned their quest early on. This little kitten was stubborn. It's fur was a deep, dark blue, almost black. The flecks of dust scattered through it looked like stars. It had big bright eyes that looked at him with an innocent expression whenever he turned around.

 _I wasn't following you, whatever gave you that idea_ _,_ they said. Lies of course. Cats were exceptionally good liars.

Loosing it proved difficult. Cecilian cats were often very good trackers. This little one was starting very early. Scaring it off was out of the question as well. It would simply tilt it's head and blink at him before uttering a tiny  _mew?_ As if to say, _is that the best you can do?_ He didn't need snark from a cat smaller than his hand.

When he finally reached his Tardis he felt relieved. It wasn't that he hated cats. He did go through a period of dislike, many many years back. But simply he felt guilty he couldn't do a thing for it. If it was strong, it may survive to adulthood, but in the ruff and tumble world that was this newly industrialised planet, it may not get that chance.

As he fumbled for the key, he quickly scanned behind him, but the kitten was nowhere to be seen. Good. He opened the lock quickly and hurried inside. It was night, but someone might still spot a large blue box disappearing into thin air. He threw his coat over the driving seats and began flipping switches and turning knobs, returning to the time vortex. He shuddered, even for a time lord, Cecilia was cold. A warm drink was just what the Doctor ordered.

He made his way to the kitchen, slowly ditching clothes edged in ice. Wet socks went first, hung over a door knob much to the displeasure of the Tardis. The waist coat came second, thrown over a chair once entering the kitchen. The timelord turned on the tardis blue kettle, absently rubbing a bare foot on the side of his trousers. The bottoms of which were soaked through. Sighing, the timelord slipped his braces from his shoulders and fumbled with his zipper. Cold fingers weren't really made out for that sort of thing. He tossed the trousers behind him and used one foot to open a cupboard, at the same time reaching for the sugar box.

Once his tea was made he sat down with a plate of jammy dodgers, slowly stirring the spoon. One good thing he'd decided, between walking from the counter to the chair, was that he had no companion on board. Namely one Clara Oswald. He could only imagine the embarrassment she inflict upon him. Not that he was ashamed of being caught in only his pants and a shirt. But he could only imagine the blackmail. He wasn't one to be shy about his own body, he learnt just where vanity got him in the previous one but still.

At least she wouldn't steal his clothes while having a shower and have to chase her down the hall in a pink towel and crash into an oblivious roman nurse. Poor Rory had gone as pink as his towel. And then Amy just had to take a photo. All in all, not one of his better days.

But fortunately for him, Clara was busy, she didn't text him often but she had politely asked for a week or two off from adventuring. He only hoped she wasn't trying to wean herself off travelling through time and space but he wouldn't blame her if she did. It wasn't for everyone. Sometimes he wondered if it was even for him, but he got stir-crazy if he was in one place for too long.

A noise caught his attention, something metallic scraping across the floor, lightly however. Gently. Now the Doctor considered himself a wise man and a smart one. But he acknowledged he didn't know everything there was to know, but he did know one thing. It wasn't normal for one's trousers to go wandering off out the door by themselves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to suggest names for the cat. :) It's a male.


End file.
